But the hour was now fast approaching when the vigorous and sincere faith which had inspired the apostles of the First Crusade was once more to revive and to shine forth in all its pristine brilliancy; and it was again in France that the flame of Christian devotion was to be rekindled at the cry which still found its echo in every heart, the cry of “_Dieu le veut!_” The French nation, the eldest daughter of the Church, had then at its head one of those pure and simple-minded men whom Providence too rarely raises up for the honour and welfare of mankind. Louis IX., the son of Blanche of Castile, and the grandson of King Philip Augustus, united in his pure and magnanimous soul all the gentle virtues of his mother to the generous and chivalrous sentiments of his grandfather. Whilst bestowing an assiduous and intelligent care on the government, and, it may be said, on the regeneration of his kingdom, whilst devoting the influence of his moral authority to appease the political discord which was agitating and devastating Europe, the sainted king could not forget that his Eastern brethren were groaning under slavery and persecution. The object of his dreams, at some future day when his kingly task should be nearing its accomplishment, when peace should reign in his dominions and in those of his neighbours, was to deliver Jerusalem and to drive the Saracen from the Holy Land. He was forced to postpone this noble undertaking, but it was only to await a more propitious opportunity of carrying it out in a thoroughly efficacious manner. “Or advint,” says the Sire de Joinville in his Memoirs, “que le roi cheut en une grande maladie, et tellement fut au bas, qu’une des dames qui le gardoient, cuidant qu’il fût oultre, lui voulut couvrir le visage d’un linceul, et de l’autre part du lit y eut une autre dame qui ne le voulut souffrir. Or Notre-Seigneur ouvra en lui et lui redonna la parole; et demanda le bon roi qu’on lui apportât la croix; ce qui fut fait. Et quand la bonne dame, sa mère, sut qu’il eut recouvré la parole, elle en eut une si grande joie qui plus ne se pouvoit, mais quand elle le vit croisé, elle fut aussi transie que si elle l’eût vu mort (1244).”[9] Notwithstanding, however, the grief of the queen-mother, who, in spite of her devotion to the holy cause, feared lest the absence of the king might prove disadvantageous to France, Louis IX., having once taken the vow, was determined faithfully to perform it. Moreover, he was encouraged by seeing that his example alone had more influence than the warmest exhortations of his preachers, for, as soon as it was known that their revered sovereign had assumed the cross, zeal revived among all classes, faith regained its sway, and an impatience to set forth on the crusade manifested itself on all sides.